Transit Blues

Every morning, wake to the itch.
The alarm clock ticks.
Make some coffee, check the weather, do my best to keep it together.
(You can't feel the transit blues...)
You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true.
Soon it will begin, soon it will begin.
I can’t expect the world to comprehend the fits that I myself can’t defend.
Every afternoon, avoid traffic, but feel frantic.
My composure: a lost love letter. Do my best to keep it together.
(You can't feel the transit blues...)
You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true.
(You can't feel the transit blues...)
You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true.
I can hear the questions now since journalism died somehow.
The shout proclaimed: "The poison praised!"
They make my words an unmarked grave.
(You can't feel the transit blues...)
(You can't feel the transit blues...)
You can’t feel the transit blues without losing something you thought was true.
Every evening I’ll have a drink, start to feel better, do my best to keep it together.